Lee Aseok quietly reached for the remote and changed the channel.

  The screen flashed.

  Then it settled on an old drama rerun.

  And once again, Lee Aseok sat still in the flickering light, the ghost of a boy in a house full of silence, surrounded by the city’s forgotten shadows.

  So it begins again, he thought.

  Of course Mu Yichen would send people to investigate. And of course, he'd place them like ornaments around the place, thinking they were subtle. That man was always like that, noble, gentle… and impossible to read.

  Lee Aseok stood, plate in hand.

  The smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile that came from long familiarity with disappointment.

  He knew what came next. They’d dig into him.

  Search for his records. His birthplace. His identity.

  He allowed it.

  After all, they’d find nothing. In this timeline, he was a ghost, just a student who had left everything behind, and nothing of value to offer.

  His life was small, insignificant, and forgettable.

  Just the way he wanted.

  In the kitchen, he calmly washed the dishes he had used earlier, scrubbing gently as warm water ran over his hands.

  The faint clink of porcelain echoed in the quiet, blending with the soft hum of the refrigerator.

  Once done, he dried his hands, picked up a clean towel, and began wiping down the counter, every motion slow and methodical.

  Like someone who had nowhere to be.

  Like someone who didn’t care if the world burned outside.

  Eventually, his steps brought him to the front of the building again.

  The entrance.

  Where only hours ago, the door had been blasted open without care or thought.

  Now, It stood there, whole and polished. Almost untouched.

  Lee Aseok blinked.

  The rain had long stopped. The ground was still damp, but the sky above was clear.

  He stepped forward and pressed a hand against the door.

  Solid. Recently restored.

  Magic.

  So they repaired it.

  Mu Yichen… or Seo MinHyun… or both.

  He stood there in silence for a long moment, fingertips brushing the edge of the wooden frame.

  There was no warmth in his gaze, no gratitude. But there also wasn't any annoyance.

  He turned around and leaned his back against the wall, tilting his head back to stare up at the night sky. His wet hair, though now towel-dried, still clung to the edges of his jaw.

  He closed his eyes.

  And breathed.

  He knew.

  He knew without a doubt, his quiet, isolated life was over.

  There would be knocks on the door.

  Investigations.

  Strangers.

  Curiosity.

  Concern pretending to be kind.

  Questions masked as care.

  He didn’t care.

  Let them come.

  Let them dig.

  He had no secrets in this life yet. No crimes to confess. No glory to flaunt.

  He had… nothing.

  And even if everything crumbled again, it wouldn’t matter.

  Because to Lee Aseok,

  There was no future he desired.

  No tomorrow he waited for.

  His only choice, his only escape, was death.

  And if it came again, he would greet it without flinching.

  He didn’t chase it.

  But he didn’t fear it either.

  If it came, he’d embrace it like an old friend.

  So regardless of who lurked beyond the shadows or how closely they watched, he lived each day the same way.

  Sleep.

  Cartoons.

  Eat.

  Sleep again.

  No training. No fighting. No preparation.

  Just lethargic survival.

  From afar, the men watching him exchanged confused glances.

  They had expected many things. Perhaps some hidden rituals, forbidden magic, or strange underground dealings.

  After all, he was a long-haired man living alone in the West Zone, dangerously close to unstable gates, without a trace of fear.

  But this?

  Sleeping fifteen hours a day? Watching cartoons and eating handmade omelets?

  He didn’t even train.

  Some of the surveillance team began to doubt their own senses.

  “Are we sure this isn’t just a weird dropout who went off-grid to escape taxes or something?”

  “Maybe he’s just really into early retirement…”

  Even with magical surveillance, they couldn’t figure him out.

  By the end of the week, the group assigned to watch Lee Aseok all came to the same silent conclusion:

  [ He’s probably just mentally unstable. A very attractive, very quiet lunatic.]

  Meanwhile, in the clean, quiet office of the famous SSS-rank hunter.

  Mu Yichen sat behind his wide desk, flipping through a report with an unreadable expression.

  Across from him, Seo MinHyun sat sprawled lazily on a plush velvet sofa, one leg tossed over the other and an annoyed frown on his face.

  He sighed for the fifth time that morning.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I’m telling you,” he said, dramatically throwing his hands in the air, “I was right from the start. That guy, Lee Aseok or whatever his name is, he’s not a criminal, not a genius, not some secret mastermind. He’s just..” Seo MinHyun pointed a finger at his head and twirled it, “..not right up here.”

  Mu Yichen gave no reply.

  His fingers continued to turn the pages slowly.

  Seo MinHyun leaned forward, squinting at the neat pile of documents in his hands. “What are you reading now? Don’t tell me… that’s the background check?”

  “Mn,” Mu Yichen responded with a hum, not looking up.

  That was all Seo MinHyun needed.

  He jumped to his feet and leaned over the desk, eyes gleaming with curiosity as he grabbed the open file before Mu Yichen could stop him.

  “What kind of crazy house made this guy?” he muttered, flipping through the file. “Jumping off buildings is like it’s a hobby. That’s not even dramatic….that’s insane.”

  Mu Yichen said nothing, only watched him silently.

  But as Seo MinHyun’s eyes moved line by line, his expression slowly changed. The arrogance faded. The smirk disappeared. And what replaced it was… confusion.

  Lee Aseok.

  A child born to a B-rank father and a C-rank mother—both deceased in a gate accident when he was just five years old.

  He was then raised by his maternal aunt's family. Nothing too unusual.

  His cousin had reportedly bullied him throughout middle school.

  He worked part-time jobs to pay for school supplies.

  Above average school performance.

  No signs of awakening.

  No red flags.

  No criminal record.

  No real friends.

  Nothing.

  Until last year, after the high school entrance exam, he left his aunt’s place without explanation and moved into the West Zone.

  “...That’s it?” Seo MinHyun asked aloud.

  The words were out before he could stop them.

  He stared at the final page.

  There were no gaps in the record. No disappearances. No mental hospital visits. No strange cult involvement. Not even a note about behavioral issues at school.

  Everything about Lee Aseok was, on paper, painfully normal.

  And yet...

  Seo MinHyun closed the folder and pressed it flat against his chest as if he could smother his unease with pressure.

  He thought about that long-haired figure. That pale, beautiful face. The empty eyes. The soft pajamas. The calm way he watched cartoons right after trying to kill himself.

  That sense of floating in a storm, of being surrounded by someone who didn’t belong anywhere, not even here.

  It didn’t match. None of it matched.

  Seo MinHyun swore under his breath.

  “There’s no way this is it,” he muttered. “This isn’t just ‘bullied at home, poor student.’ This is, this is something else.”

  Mu Yichen finally spoke, voice quiet and steady, “You noticed it too.”

  Seo MinHyun looked up, meeting his gaze.

  “There’s something missing,” Mu Yichen said. “Something big.”

  Seo MinHyun tossed the report onto the table. “And that’s the problem. Whatever happened to him… it’s not here.”

  They sat in silence.

  Outside the window, the sky turned a muted grey, the clouds heavy with more rain. The atmosphere felt strangely still.

  Seo MinHyun broke the silence with a dry laugh. “This is going to be trouble, isn’t it?”

  Mu Yichen didn’t answer.

  He looked out the window, eyes far away, deep in a thought he hadn’t shared with anyone yet.

  Meanwhile, in the West Zone...

  Lee Aseok leaned back against the couch, a warm blanket wrapped loosely around his frame. The cartoon continued playing on the television, its colors dancing across his expressionless face.

  He blinked slowly.

  Outside his building, the subtle shimmer of surveillance magic remained, constant, quiet, almost respectful in its distance.

  But he could feel them watching. He picked up the remote, turned the volume down again, and glanced toward the ceiling.

  “They’ll dig and dig and dig…”

  His voice was a whisper. Dry and hollow.

  “…but they won’t find anything.”

  He smiled. Just a little. And it didn’t reach his eyes.

  He pulled the blanket tighter and closed his eyes.

  On the other site, Seo MinHyun was looking at the report and noticed another document and looked through them but to his surprise it was a financial report.

  The pages flipped again.

  Seo MinHyun, who had always lived a larger-than-life existence, stared at the newly discovered financial document with genuine disbelief written across his handsome face.

  “What the actual hell…” he muttered.

  His fingers tapped against the paper, highlighting numbers most people would think were misprints. But they weren’t. The calculations had been verified, the data authenticated. All of it was real.

  “...He made this much... from stocks?” he asked, almost to himself. “He started trading after leaving his aunt’s house and turned a few thousand into billions? In one year?”

  Mu Yichen, who had been reading alongside him in silence, didn’t answer. His brows were furrowed slightly, a rare sign of inner unrest from the man who always maintained grace and composure.

  “This kind of intellect…” Seo MinHyun leaned back, voice lower now, “I’ve only ever seen something like this in you.”

  Mu Yichen didn’t respond to that either.

  Seo MinHyun tossed the report onto the table. The soft thud sounded far too light for what it represented.

  “Genius,” he said, his tone twisted with a strange mix of admiration, confusion, and mild resentment. “He’s a damn genius, but he’s insane. Actually insane. How do you go from making billions to living alone in the West Zone and throwing yourself off rooftops like it’s your evening stroll?”

  Silence answered him.

  Mu Yichen sat beside the report and rubbed his brow, a sigh escaping him.

  He was good at many things: swordsmanship, leadership, political diplomacy. But right now, none of those skills helped him understand the boy with the crimson-brown eyes and unwashed sorrow.

  “There’s a missing piece,” Mu Yichen said finally. “No one goes from a normal bullied student to a top-tier investor and then chooses a borderline suicidal life in a monster-infested zone... without something else happening in between.”

  “You think the records were wiped?” Seo MinHyun asked.

  Mu Yichen shook his head. “No. If they were tampered with, I’d know. They’re complete. Just... incomplete.”

  Seo MinHyun crossed his arms. “So what? He’s some hidden prodigy with emotional damage? That’s still not an excuse for acting like a walking corpse.”

  His words were harsh, but even he didn’t believe them fully.

  The image of Lee Aseok sitting silently under the flickering light, eating rice while watching cartoons after trying to throw himself off a building, it wouldn't leave his mind.

  “I still think he’s mentally unstable,” Seo MinHyun muttered. “But... I don’t know. It’s like... he died once already, and the guy we met is just... what’s left.”

  Mu Yichen’s hand paused. His eyes slowly lifted toward the window.

  The words struck too close to something.

  Something he couldn’t put into words.

  Or maybe, something he didn’t want to admit.

  Seo MinHyun sighed and leaned back again, the leather of the sofa creaking beneath him.

  “I’ve met arrogant people, depressed people, broken people, dangerous people... but that guy, he’s all of them, and none of them. He’s empty, but still dangerous. He’s indifferent, but not gone.”

  A silence fell again.

  Mu Yichen looked down at the report once more. The page showed Lee Aseok’s most recent trade, a perfect selloff right before the market dipped last week. Precise. Unshakable. Emotionless.

  Just like him.

  Mu Yichen finally spoke, soft and heavy.

  “Even if he is broken…” he said, almost to himself, “…there must’ve been a time he wasn’t.”

  Seo MinHyun turned his head, narrowing his eyes at the unusual melancholy in Mu Yichen’s tone.

  “You sound like you’ve met him before,” he said.

  Mu Yichen didn’t answer.

  Not because he couldn’t.

  But because, deep in his gut, that same impossible thought had crossed his mind too.

  Back in the West Zone…

  Lee Aseok was slicing vegetables. A mundane, gentle sound. The knife tapped the wooden board rhythmically, and he moved slowly, methodically, without emotion or urgency.

  He placed the pieces into the pot and turned on the stove, standing silently as the steam began to rise.

  He looked at the flame. His mind, somewhere else.

  "Billions," he muttered to himself, tone dry. "Not enough to buy peace."

  He stirred the soup, turned the heat low, and walked over to the window.

  He could sense them again, Mu Yichen's men. They were far enough not to intrude, but close enough to intervene.

  He didn’t care.

  They could watch all they wanted.

  They wouldn’t find anything.

  Because the truth…

  Wasn’t written anywhere.

  And no matter how closely they looked, they'd never guess that the corpse they were watching had already died once.

  Mu Yichen rubbed his temples, a slight frown forming between his brows. No matter how many times he read the report, no matter how deeply he tried to interpret the data, nothing pointed to what truly mattered: why Lee Aseok was like this.

  Nothing explained the lifeless eyes. The disconnection from the world. The eerie peace with the idea of death.

  He sighed again, the air heavy.

  Then, his phone lit up with a quiet buzz.

  Seo MinHyun leaned closer with a grin. “What is it? Don’t tell me it’s another stalker admirer. Or worse… my fan club?”

  Mu Yichen glanced at the screen.

  “Park Taegun’s arriving.”

  As if on cue, Seo MinHyun’s smile shattered. He stared blankly for a beat before groaning loudly and collapsing back into the sofa.

  “Why is my luck so disgustingly bad?” he whined. “Is the universe trying to punish me for being too handsome?”

  Mu Yichen didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Seo MinHyun’s complaints were more of a background noise at this point.

  It wasn’t surprising that Seo MinHyun reacted this way. The moment the name Park Taegun entered any room, Seo MinHyun’s day usually went downhill.

  Mu Yichen and Seo MinHyun were childhood friends, tightly bonded in their youth through sparring, magic lessons, and noble family politics. But Park Taegun was someone Mu Yichen met after he awakened.

  A product of a strict military lineage, Park Taegun’s demeanor was that of a textbook soldier: efficient, sharp, cool-headed, and uninterested in anything outside necessity.

  His father and grandfather both held general and Marshal titles and had shaped him from birth into a precision weapon of command.

  He awakened as an S-rank Tank, one of the rarest and most reliable classes in battle. And though he was only a year older, he carried the pressure of five generations of service on his shoulders and never let emotion override discipline.

  Naturally, Seo MinHyun hated him.

  Seo MinHyun groaned again. “I’m going to move to another continent.”

  “You say that every month,” Mu Yichen said mildly.

  “And I still mean it every time.”

  For more than seven years, Park Taegun, Mu Yichen, and Seo MinHyun had fought shoulder to shoulder. High-ranking gates, elite expeditions, raids so dangerous even the headlines held their breath, they’d been through all of it.

  Each with their own temperament, each as unyielding as the next.

  And somehow, it worked.

  Mostly.

  But after Park Taegun was sent overseas for an extended joint operation with the European Gate Defense Alliance, the group dynamics had slightly shifted. Now, after months away, he was finally back.

  every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Yes, every week!